Do you ever wonder, when reading another’s writing’s, political in particular, if the person emphatically declaring a point of view which you may find laughable, actually believes that drivel? Do you find yourself questioning not only the truthfulness or accuracy of the person, but also their sincerity?

What kind of person would write obvious propogandist tripe, believing enough people will alter their perception and view?

My guess is, many. Many people know what they purport as truth is simply not. Many, needing acceptance, or at least tolerance, of their positions, actively subvert reality and fact with a twisted version, which ends with persuading others to adopt the falsity.

George Orwell said this about writing:

“The first thing that we ask of a writer is that he shall not tell lies, that he shall say what he really thinks, what he really feels. The worst thing we can say about a work of art is that it is insincere. And this is even truer of criticism than of creative literature, in which a certain amount of posing and mannerism, and even a certain amount of downright humbug, doesn’t matter, so long as the writer is fundamentally sincere. Modern literature is essentially an individual thing. It is either the truthful expression of what one man thinks and feels, or it is nothing.”

Well, I try my best to express, truthfully, exactly what I think and feel. I’m not always successful, but not for lack of effort or wilfull attempt to defraud or deceive. Then there’s this little problem:

“The writer either has a meaning and cannot express it, or he inadvertently says something else, or he is almost indifferent as to whether his words mean anything or not. This mixture of vagueness and sheer incompetence is the most marked characteristic of modern English prose, and especially of any kind of political writing. As soon as certain topics are raised, the concrete melts into the abstract and no one seems able to think of turns of speech that are not hackneyed: prose consists less and less of words chosen for the sake of their meaning, and more and more of phrases tacked together like the sections of a prefabricated hen-house.”

Cliche’s, worn phrases, trite mantras, prattle of any kind, in other word’s, sounding like Hillary Clinton, are the first thing’s I edit. Someone wrote that anything that sound’s familiar to you will certainly sound familiar to the reader.

I really enjoy sitting down and typing my thought’s into view. Even if I say something dumb, at least I’ve had my say.

What can be better than that?